


The Secret

by AnneScriblerian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Mutilation, Rape, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-17
Updated: 2013-04-17
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:44:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/764187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnneScriblerian/pseuds/AnneScriblerian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He'll never tell. Neither will she.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Secret

**Author's Note:**

> This is a ficlet I wrote in 2010 for a prompt exchange with some of my Hogwarts alums (students from my Harry Potter class who have graduated). The prompt: Why is Mad-Eye Moody so paranoid? And what really happened to his leg?

Some things were meant to be shared, and some things were private. Bellatrix had never told anyone about her masterpiece. Not even her Lord. No one else knew what had driven her completely mad. It wasn't the satisfaction she got from the mayhem she created in the service of her Lord. It was the fact that said mayhem was so damn dissatisfying.

Even her most notorious triumph, the Longbottoms, had been a group exercise. Plus, it had actually been quite boring, using the one curse the entire time. For her masterpiece there had been just one artist, and she had not limited herself to one medium for her art. She would never again feel such pure satisfaction.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alastor Moody had always loved her. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help himself. It was his job to watch the Black family. Falling in love with one of their children was not only morally repugnant; it was professional suicide. He comforted himself with his firm conviction that no one would ever know of his misplaced passion. Some things weren't meant to be shared.

After watching Andromeda for years, it was a cold comfort to watch her go off to Hogwarts. He would be freed from the compulsion to watch her; he would be prevented from watching her. There were ways that he could have watched her still. He was a good enough Auror that he could have had an eye on her even within those castle walls. But Dumbledore was a good enough wizard that he would have found out. So even though Alastor told himself that he had thought better of it because he would not cross the line into complete depravity, there was no real way to know if he refrained simply because he didn't want to get caught.

Whatever the true reason, Alastor only saw Andromeda during the summers for seven long years. During those years he continued to tell himself that his obsession was a pure love, simply admiration for the girl who managed to remain untainted by her family's corroding hatred and evil. His reverence had certainly become less pure over the years, though the girl herself had not. She remained as bright as her namesake. Andromeda was the perfect example of her family's motto, if it had been unperverted by hate. She made Toujours Pur a promise, rather than a threat. And Alastor meant to help keep that promise. He really did.

So when she came to him, asking for help, he really thought that there would be no harm in it. With his good intentions and her innocence, nothing could possibly go wrong. Until everything did.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

She was crying the first time she talked to him. He would never forget how luminous her eyes looked, shimmering with tears.

"I just don't know if I can stand it much longer. The world is changing, and they can't see it. They want us to live in the Dark Ages. I have to bite my tongue all the time, or my sisters make my life hell. No one understands me".

This last, delivered from quivering lips, was his undoing. He was not a lecherous old man. He was a mature and gentle friend to a lonely young woman. He soothed her with words, that first time. It was very important to him that he not be the first to touch. He would at least spare himself that particular shame.

In due course, their meetings out in the abandoned greenhouse became trysts. "No one understands me" became "You're the only one who understands me". A comforting arm around the shoulders became an embrace. The first time Alastor kissed Andromeda, he felt like he had come home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One night she was different. She clung to him like he was her only hope for survival. Her kisses, usually so gentle, became frantic. He should have become suspicious when she nipped his bottom lip so hard that he tasted blood, then pulled away and laughed. But by that time she was astride his lap, and the delicious pressure had stolen his reason. He should have protested when she Banished his trousers and pants, for so many reasons. But the discovery that she wore nothing underneath her simple shift drove him slightly mad. When she lifted her hips and guided him inside of her, he went completely mad. That was when she took his eye.

She plunged her thumb into his eye as she plunged down onto his cock. He heard a distinct pop and at the same time he felt a constriction around the base of his penis. Then he heard her laughter. Then he felt the pain. He screamed and screamed as she continued to bounce up and down on his lap, slashing his face with a knife on every thrust.

He splinched himself when he Apparated away. He never went back for his leg. Poppy Pomfrey was a good nurse; she never mentioned the cock ring. And she honored his request to leave the scars on his face. He wanted to be reminded to never trust anyone again.


End file.
